This time Imani’s mental voice didn’t contradict his dark thoughts. Either she wasn’t listening, or she agreed with him.
J’are was afraid to know which it was.
Thirty-Eight
Judge Thoughtgood’s hair was still purple this morning and it looked a bit wilted. The judge, herself, looked wilted as well, Imani thought. Like she was fighting a fierce hangover. She was glad she hadn’t taken more than a sip of her drink at the party last night—clearly overindulgence led to pain.
Overindulgence in all kinds of things leads to pain, Imani, whispered a little voice in the back of her head. She remembered the intense pleasure she’d felt the night before when J’are had been inside her, bonding her to him. She’d had the strongest orgasms she’d ever known when the big Nightwalker was taking her…but now it was time to pay the price.
And the cost was the loss of her family and career and spending the rest of her life on a strange planet.
That’s a pretty hefty price tag for a one-night stand, whispered the same little voice.
Only it wasn’t a one-night stand—the Kindred didn’t do one-night stands, Imani reminded herself. She and J’are were stuck together for life and she didn’t know how to feel about that.
She wanted to hate the big Kindred, who was slumped beside her, a look of misery on his face—wanted to despise him for what had happened between them. And honestly, part of her did hate him…but she hated herself too. Hated the way she’d been so eager to spread her legs for him, the way she hadn’t even tried to get away when he was preparing to breed her. She hadn’t tried to fight or run or hide, she’d just gotten to her hands and knees and spread her legs for his cock…
“Enough,” Imani muttered to herself. It was time to stop thinking of what had happened last night and concentrate on what was about to happen here in court. She would need all her wits about her if she was going to do what she had planned.
Because this wasn’t going to be just a simple hearing to formalize J’are’s freedom—Imani wanted to see justice done—no matter what it cost her.
She looked to the other side of the courtroom and caught sight of Lady Bittlebum, sitting with the Prosecutor and several of her morphids. The lemon-haired Mistress caught her looking and shot Imani a knowing smile that was more like a smirk.
You don’t dare talk, that smile said. Because if you do I’ll let everyone know what you did. Everyone, including the judge.
Imani looked away and lifted her chin. She would not be intimidated—would not be blackmailed. If this was the last case she was ever going to get to try, the last time she went to court, well then, she was damn well going to make it count!
“Now, then…” Judge Thoughtgood put a hand to her wilted purple hair and winced. “Let’s make this quick.”
“Before we begin, your Honor, I have something to say,” Imani said.
“You do, do you?”
Judge Thoughtgood frowned at her and from the other side of the courtroom, Imani could see Mistress Bittlebum giving her a worried glare. She ignored her.
“Yes, I do,” she said firmly, rising from her seat. “Your Honor, I know who killed Lady Zangelo.”
Thirty-Nine
“You what?” Judge Thoughtgood sat up straight, her wilted hair and hangover apparently forgotten. From the other side of the room, Mistress Bittlebum was glaring daggers at Imani.
Imani didn’t care.
“I said, I know who killed Lady Zangelo.” She pointed across the courtroom. “And she’s sitting right here in this courtroom—it was Mistress Bittlebum.”
“Your Honor, I must protest this nonsense!” Mistress Bittlebum was on her feet before the Prosecutor could utter a word. “And I must inform your Honor that I have some evidence to present.”
“Oh, really?” Judge Thoughtgood turned a skeptical eye on her. “What kind of evidence?”
“It is evidence that Councilor Williams is hoping to suppress,” Mistress Bittlebum said quickly. “Which is why she is making such wild allegations about me now. If your Honor would care to watch it, I have it all here.” She held up a small drive and the bailiff took it.
Judge Thoughtgood frowned.
“Well, it seems this has turned from a simple release trial into something else. What evidence is this, anyway, Mistress Bittlebum?”
“You’ll see, your Honor,” Lady Bittlebum said quickly. “It has to do with the Nightwalker,” she added. “And it proves conclusively that he must never be allowed to go free—that he, in fact—should be executed immediately.”
“That will be my decision—not yours,” Judge Thoughtgood snapped at her. “However, now my curiosity is piqued.” She looked at Imani. “Councilor Williams, you’re surprisingly quiet over there. Don’t you wish to protest this evidence?”
Imani shook her head firmly.
“No, your Honor. I feel certain that my client will be exonerated in the end.”
“Very well. Bailiff, fetch a screen,” Judge Thoughtgood said.
A large viewscreen was rolled in and the drive was plugged into it.
Imani bit her lip and tried to ready herself. She knew very well that the judge was not going to like what she was about to see but she was confident that the other woman could be persuaded to understand.
For now, she just had to endure this before she would be allowed to explain.
The scene started in the simulator room after Lady Bittlebum had closed and locked the door. Imani watched, feeling detached, as she took off running and J’are chased her.
She saw something surprising, however—she saw the big Nightwalker struggling with himself. She watched as he clenched his hands into fists, squeezing until his nails bit into his palms and blood ran down to patter on the jungle floor. He gritted his teeth and fought
